It Started With A Kiss
by Sandalaris
Summary: One kiss. That's all it was, a kiss. And not a very good one at that. One wet, sloppy, unplesant kiss. Then why can't I get it out of my head? DG


It has been three weeks since the "occurrence," as I have come to call it, and it has haunted me the entire time.

"It wasn't even good," I muttered, throwing myself, no scratch that, Malfoy's do not "throw" themselves onto their beds, they place themselves, so placing myself exasperated onto my bed. Why I'm still fretting over such a little thing, I don't know, but the "occurrence" had officially wormed, _or weaseled, _I thought with a grin, it's way inot my every waking- and lately sleeping- moment. The sound of rain, a flash of red, the smell of coconuts, all of it brought the memory back with such vividness that I found my breath catching and heat rising to my cheeks. "Oh merlin," I moaned. How in heaven's name did I let that stupid little Gryffindor's kiss affect me, a Malfoy?...

_Roughly three weeks earlier_

"Shove off, Malfoy."

Typical. All of this was old news. The everyday Potter and Weasley vs. Malfoy, or me to be precise, round of insults. We were out by the lake this time. The day was dark and stormy, thick clouds hung over head, heavy with unshed droplets. I had wondered outside, bored out of my mind, when I happened upon on of my favorite past times. (Although lately I'll admit it had begun to bore me) There they were, the infamous Harry Potter, and his favorite side-kicks; Ron and Ginny Weasley. I didn't see Granger but I knew she couldn't be that far off.

We had started off with the usual bantering, a warm-up really, a few insults tossed back and forth to get a feel of the coming game, or war as some might call it. When the afore mentioned "shove off, Malfoy," was said I knew that warm-up time was over, time to pull out the big guns, whatever they are, I heard Blaise say it.

"Where's your mudblood, Weasel?" It had been just a few days before that I head discovered that the pair had become an item. Personally, I saw it coming. Weasley acted too quickly when I first called Granger a mudblood for him to simply think of her as a close friend. I had wasted no time in teasing the couple about their new found attraction endlessly.

"Like you don't know." It was Potter who spoke this time, holding the weasel back and glaring daggers my way. It hit a nerve to call Granger a mudblood and I delighted in every minute of it. I raised an eyebrow. I didn't know, not that they'd believe me.

"You stay the hell away from her, ferret." The Weasel was red in the face, and his anger made his words harsher. I laughed.

"Do you honestly think that you, a filthy blood traitor, can tell me, Draco Malfoy, what to do? I'll go near whatever, and whoever I want." Heavy rain drops began falling form the sky at my words, but I was in the middle of a speech, not a rant, Malfoy's don't rant, and a bit of rain wasn't going to stop me. "There is nothing that you own, Ronald Phillip Weasley, that I cannot take." Maybe I had gone mad with the mixture of rain and exhilarating over my speech, or maybe it was the way lightning flashed right as the last words left my mouth, lighting up, for just an instant, the youngest Weasley. I don't know. All I know is that something came over me. I saw her, soaked to the bone like the rest of us in rain water, old hand-me-down robes handing heavily off her body, and I stopped thinking. She was the object of Potters affections, unbeknownst to her, and her brother's protection. But right then, even if it was only for a moment, she would belong to me.

Closing the space between us in two strides, I grabbed both her arms just about the elbows, pulled her wet, cold, shivering body against my own, and slammed my lips down on hers, possessing them, possessing her.

It wasn't a good kiss, hell it wasn't even pleasant. We were both wet, cold and shivering. Her head was at an awkward angle, leaving my nose pressed into her cheek. Her teeth were chattering and her lips were freezing. Her hair was wet and plastered to her face, although I could smell her coconut shampoo. A smell I crave even now.

Potter came to his senses first. He ripped Ginny form my arms, and with murder in his eyes, pulled out his wand and prepared to curse me. Pulling my own wand out, my voice cold and calm, I said simply, "Do you really place on attacking me, Potter?" I then preceded to drop my wand. "I'm unarmed." A smirk cam to my lips. No Gryffindor would attack an unarmed foe. I weakness I might add.

"He's not worth it, Harry. We can get him later." The male Weasley then proceeded to drag a fill fuming Potter, and one very shocked Ginny away. Again, looking at the drenched Weaslette, I was seized but some unknown force and I winked at her.

Why does it still affect me? Why can't I get over it? It was just a kiss. One lousy kiss.

A voice, female, waft through my musing. She, whoever it was, had uttered the password and was now in my Head Boy/Girl common room. It wasn't Hermione, she had a very distinct, bossy voice, and Pansy didn't know the password, thank merlin. The visitor was welcome, for all I cared, I needed a distraction.

It took all my will power not to react to the girl standing in my common room; the very red-head I'd been avoiding for the past three weeks was standing there.

"Is Hermione in?" Her voice was calm, like the hour before the storm.

"No. And I don't know where she is." It came out harsh and cold, but my heart was accelerated and it took all I had to keep my breathing normal. She had to go.

"When's she getting back?" She stepped further into the room, seemingly unaffected by my coldness.

"I don't know." My reply was ground out through clenched teeth. She looked at me, her warm brown eyes thoughtful. I turned my eyes away. I couldn't stop myself. Her eyes seemed so powerful, able to see into my mind, into my thoughts, which weren't entirely pure.

When I looked back she was sitting on the couch, flipping through one of Hermione's muggle magazines, that she insisted upon leaving out here. I could almost smell her coconuts shampoo. I couldn't stand it.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, glaring at her for having the nerve to affect me, Draco Malfoy.

"Waiting," she said simply, flipping through the magazine, unaffected. Well, I was not about to flee form some petite, no good, red-head, so I did what any other Malfoy would do. I strode as calmly as possible into the room and began scanning the book shelf, my eyes seeing nothing.

How dare she come in here after what happened. How dare she just sit there like nothing happened, like it had no effect on her. How dare it affect me and not affect her. How dare she feel nothing. Spinning around, the unfairness and anger of it all filled me. "Damn it all," I hissed, making a beeline toward my tormentor. I had to make it stop. Grabbing her chin with one hand and wrapping an arm around her waist with the other, I proceeded to do the only thing I could think to do to cease my torment; I kissed her.

I hadn't planned on what happened next. This kiss was so unlike the first. Our head were angled just right, her lips were warm and soft and, thankfully, there was no rain.

It was like I had been starving for her, for this. I needed her, I wanted her. I couldn't let go. As I deepened the kiss, I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her soft small body against my own hard one. I needed to be closer. A small groan escaped my lips as her hands lightly trailed up my chest. One found it's way into my hair, and the other around my waist and up my back.

I moaned again in an almost kind of desperation as we fell back onto the soft black couch she had been sitting on just moments before. Her body was under min, arching to press closer, and I was only happy to oblige in pulling her closer. My hands roamed hr body, not daring to go where I feared she'd pull away.

A loud thud finally pulled us apart. There stood Hermione, mouth agape, book bag around her feet, staring in utter shock.

"There you are," Ginny broke in, her voice calm, if not a bit breathless. "I've been looking for you." I got up slowly, hiding my embarrassment. Ginny, for all that it was worth, seemed calm, but a slight flush gave her away. I had finally had on effect on her. "Well, Mr. Malfoy," she said turning to me and straightening her shirt. "Same time tomorrow?"

I gave her my most sexy smirk. "Until then." And because I was still possessed by whatever spirit it was, I added after a pause, "Ginny." She smiled, and I was struck by how sexy her smile was, and walked out, leaving a recovering Hermione scrambling to get her bag and it's spilled contents. I could hardly stand to wait.

I am planning on making another one from Ginny's point of view if enough people like this one.


End file.
